The Promise I Made
by SheenWinning
Summary: Corvo Attano made a promise to Jessamine after the birth of Emily. But in the darkest hours of a conspiracy that left her dead, Emily kidnapped, and Corvo to take the blame, the former Lord Protector walks a fine line between light and dark. How far will he go to uphold his promise? Theme of Corvo being Emily's father; M for graphic violence. (CorvoXJessamine) (CorvoXCecilia)
1. Introduction: His Daughter's Birth

**This fic is a retelling of the Dishonored storyline as to fit my headcanons, including Corvo being Emily's father. I wrote this because I had a re visioning that I believe is much more emotional and leaves me much more connected to the characters and the plot. I cant say the same about you, the readers, but I felt like I had to get this story written down and put up after my third playthrough. **

**So please, do enjoy and leave your thoughts in a review, I implore you. **

* * *

"_I know the day when the Empress was murdered, when her daughter was kidnapped, when you were falsely imprisoned…most men would've lost hope. Why do you still fight on?" _

"_Because I made a promise."_

* * *

_**1827**_

The loud shrieks of a woman could be heard from behind a door to someone's private quarters; echoes of someone's pain would pass through ones ears and send shivers down their spine. This woman with long black hair and blue eyes that were hidden behind her tightly closed lids, legs spread apart on the bed, flanked by a nurse and another just at the end of the bed. The nurses aided her, guiding her in such an agonizing process of nature; bones to be pushed, canals to be squeezed through, an exit to be forced wide open to the departure of new life. The woman kept on screaming, a confusing time of her making death threats to those around, and apologies, and pleads to make it stop; yet she had to see it through, as a woman, it being her natural duty to deliver.

The process had gone on for hours, and hearing her cries troubled the man who was pacing back and forth just outside of the room. Serkonan in features; black hair down to his jaw, brown eyes, and olive skin with light stubble that typically defined a scowl when on duty. Years ago he was assigned to protect her for life, until death came to him; should he fail in his duty then he would gladly accept the punishment. But never did he expect that the events of their times together would lead them to here, and to an Empire of subjects that would forever judge their standing.

Finally, the shrieking of the woman had stopped, and he could hear the sound of an infant beginning to cry. The Serkonan man halted in his tracks and breathed, his heart beat quickened in a nervous manner; it was finally done, and what would happen now? A few more moments went by, his leg shook in place as he tried to regain composure until he was forced to by the call of his title.

"Lord Protector!" he heard one of the nurses call for him over the cries of the infant. Immediately, the Lord Protector rushed in through the door and caught sight of the woman who had rested on the bed in exhaustion, and then his gaze averted to the source of the crying baby. There it was, wrapped in blankets and in the arms of the nurse as she rocked it back and forth.

"Corvo…" the woman on the bed called out his name, evident in her longing for his presence.

"It's a girl," the nurse informed Corvo with a smile. He approached her and she handed him the baby, he coddled the child in his arms as it cried more, but it silenced and found peace in his space. Corvo looked up to the nurses and addressed them.

"Leave," he told them. "Please." The two hesitantly obeyed, bowed, and left the room, shutting the door behind them. All he was left with was the weight of the infant and the woman in his presence; he only stared down at the child that went silent like it was sleeping.

"Corvo," the woman called out his name again, her tone reflecting tiredness. He walked over to the side of the bed and knelt down to her level.

"Do you have a name for her?" He asked, handing the baby to her to coddle it in the same way.

"Emily," she replied, looking down to it.

"That's a good name," Corvo nodded, and he tenderly laid a hand on the woman's shoulder for comfort. In what most would occasionally be happy, this mood was one of concern and slight sadness, as their faces never showed a smile, and they were obviously bothered by the birth of this child.

"Corvo," she said, looking to him with glossy eyes. "We can't let them know…"

"Yes, Jessamine, I know," Corvo said, shutting his in dejection.

"We can't let them know this is your child, they will only hurt us more…" she said, a tear dropping down her cheek. Corvo wiped it away with his thumb and took her hand in both of his.

"I know," he said again, and then he sighed, looking away.

"Why did we let this happen, Corvo?"

He cupped her cheek; "We don't have to regret this."

"How are we going to keep us safe from them? As a family?" she pleaded. Corvo brought his face to Jessamine's and touched their foreheads together, closing their eyes.

"We'll find a way."

"Corvo," she whispered. "Promise me…"

"I'll be here for you, until I die," he said. Jessamine pulled her head back and looked deep into his eyes.

"Please promise me, whatever happens…protect our child, keep her safe," she said. "I know I can't, so just…please…promise me, whatever happens, protect her…"

"I promise I will," he said. "I promise to protect her and keep her safe from them, to raise her and share what I know. You have my word, my love." They leaned in and touched foreheads again. "I promise."


	2. Chapter 1: His Return to Dunwall

**1837**

The large metal ship had sailed in the direction of the setting sun burning bright orange over the horizon. The crew had all but died down to settle in for the coming night, only few still stood on deck; the ship would be trusted in the hands of the academy trained Helmsman to take them to Dunwall. This lack in activity gave Corvo the chance to catch fresh air, and to be by himself to contemplate like he usually did. So now he stood out near one of the front corners of the ship, hands dug into his navy blue coat as he stared out at the pleasant sight of orange.

Months ago, he had received a paper copy of an order from the Empress, Jessamine. As she had sent him out on this diplomatic mission without a choice, it would be great that she explained herself, in which she did. Corvo would have been discontent with her words, but what he had read left his mind at ease, and a smile took him instead with her ending statements.

'_Corvo, if only there was someone else I trusted to send so that you could remain near, but there is no one else, and the Spymaster was right to insist that I send you. _

_The Plague has taken so many, and we must find a cure. _

_When you are near, my heart is at peace. Emily and I will count the days until you return. _

_Hurry home, my love, and bring good news.'_

* * *

"Steady hand!" A guard captain called out, as he stood over the edge of a longboat being lowered by rope into the Wrenhaven River, as it was to depart from the large ship it was part of. "Watch it! Good, that's it!"

"Cast off!" A fainter voice had yelled from the deck of the ship.

"Cast off line!" The captain repeated, and the longboat was disconnected from the ropes and splashed gently into the water. "We're away." The Captain turned and went over to the back of the longboat, where the comfortable seats are, yet he sat in none. Corvo had endured the long process of departure, and they were near the tower where he would find Jessamine; he couldn't wait any longer, not after months of being away to the other islands. The Guard talked to the longboat driver on the left; "Take us straight to Dunwall tower, Lord Attano has news for the Empress and we've come a long way."

"A long way to bring bad news," the driver in the pickle helmet and uniform had said, almost sarcastically. "The sailors say there's a curse on us, y'know…black magic."

The Captain swiped his hand in front of him as to dismiss the claim; "It's all just superstition. For all we know, Sokolov has found a cure by now."

"Possibly," the driver said. "These are strange times…I mean, sending the Empress' bodyguard away for several months? That is quite unusual." Corvo, listening to this all, couldn't agree with the statement more. Their boat was driven to the front of the gates to the large tower, where the doors screeched its metal open, and the boat had entered into a darker area. Once they stopped complete in the center of it, the Captain stepped up and used his hand to project his voice to the men who had manned the top side. "We're going up!"

"Ready," a voice had called back, and an alarm had gone off, repeated signals of machinery beginning to do its work. Corvo heard the rush of what would be a waterfall, or a raging flood plain. Two large industrial wheels began to turn, and then, as Corvo predicted, water began to rage out of four opening and fall down. This had allowed water the rise, and with it the boat, and this went on until they reached the top. A short bridge had creaked down onto the boat for passage of its occupants.

"The Empress will be waiting for your news Corvo," The Captain said, as he and Corvo began to step off past the railing and onto solid ground. They walked side by side "It's been a pleasure riding with you, sir."

"Likewise, Captain Curnow," Corvo replied, and nodded.

With his hands behind his back, Curnow made talk as they walked over to an opening, past a deactivated wall of light; "I'm just glad I get to see my niece, Callista, she's getting more beautiful by the day." Corvo, however, avoided talk as Curnow would say a few things to him without response; this was when they separated when they came to a short bridge. Corvo stopped in his tracks when he saw the figure of a little girl in white nobles clothing and a band to hold her black hair back elegantly. He watched as her face lit up when her eyes caught sight of him, and he knew exactly who she was. How could they forget each other?

His daughter; or rather the daughter that doesn't know he's her real father. She'd be ten years old now, and Corvo had been proud to have watched her grow up so young and beautiful.

"Corvo!" she called out, excitedly, and she sprinted towards him with a big smile plastered on her face. The same smile had been copied on his, and he knelt down to her level with open arms and received her in a tight hug with full force. "You're back, finally!"

"Yes, Emily, I'm back," he said. The little girl kissed him on the cheek.

"Tell me about your trip! Did you see any whales?"

"More than I could count."

"What about sea monsters?"

"Eh, no…" he said, and he lifted her up in his arm to carry her. "I wasn't far enough out at sea. We should go see your mother now, where is she?"

"She's up there," Emily pointed to a large stone chiseled pavilion, columned and bannered in the blues of the Empire. A carved stairway would lead up to the pavilion, where it was structured at the edge of a drop, but not without safeties. "But she's talking to that nasty old Spymaster…" Her tone turned to malice at the mention of him.

As Corvo began to walk, he replied: "He sure is nasty, isn't he?"

"At least mother will be happy, she missed you."

Going up the steps, he passed several guards standing at attention, and at some point along the way to the side was a flat surface where he saw a large bald man in a red Overseer's uniform posing arms crossed and strong for a portrait of him, painted by a man with a grimaced face and a long beard, dressed in subtle colors.

"Welcome home Lord Protector," the man in red had called to him. "Two days early it seems." Corvo nodded to him.

"Yes, yes," the bearded man said. "Welcome back, from wherever you have been. Now stop moving Campbell." The man, Campbell, had gone back to his pose and the painter continued on brushing the canvas with the oils.

"I'm not too sure that looks like Campbell…" Emily said, giggling slightly, bringing a smile once again to Corvo's face on her sly remark on the ability of the painter.

"They sent him all over the Isles to beg for aid," Campbell said.

"It's a waste of time," the painter said. "My elixir should banish the plague from this city; now keep still a moment, High Overseer Campbell."

Corvo continued on until he reached a metal gate that has been open, with a guard standing just by.

"The Empress will see you at once," he said, and Corvo nodded. He went further up until he reached the top, where he and Emily saw the Empress, the woman in black with black hair knotted up looking out to the Wrenhaven River. She was flanked by a man, bald and old with wrinkles and scarred complexion on his face; menacing to make a summary of it. He had on nearly black like she did, but with more definition of red as a shirt underneath a collared coat with an opening to shape like a diamond. He also had a gold medallion just around his neck. It seemed like the Royal Spymaster and the Empress were in an argument, and she was having none of his 'crap'.

"They're sick people, not criminals!" She exclaimed.

"We have gone far beyond that question, your majesty!" He exclaimed back. "They're-"

"They're my citizens," she interrupted, making her word final. "And we will save them from the plague if we can." It was clear to Corvo, just by the nature of this, he understood the divide. Jessamine, in her good heart, believed she shouldn't enforce new laws to better control the plague. Naïve, yet good hearted; she dedicated her rule to be kind and gracious, and she refused to treat her subjects like cattle. The Royal Spymaster, Hiram Burrows on the other hand, believed that direct action was necessary and strict executive actions must be taken in order to contain the spread of the plague; this included heavily guarded quarantine zones, and mass deportation of non-infected citizens to newer areas. It was honestly something that Corvo could understand more, given the mindset he had when he served under the Duke of Serkonos, but being reasonable was much more understanding.

"We will not speak of this again," she said.

"Very well."

At this point, Corvo had put Emily down and she ran to the pavilion where her mother had heard her footsteps and turned to see her.

"Mother, Corvo is back!" the little girl said.

"Thank you Emily," the Empress looked to the Spymaster. "Leave us, please."

Bowing, Burrows said: "As you wish, your majesty." He then turned and walked in slow strides, hands behind his back and face evident of displeasure. He came by Corvo and stopped.

"Corvo!" he greeted. "Two days early? Full of surprises…as usual." He continued walking on, his face going back to the expression of dissatisfaction, the stupid old fool. Corvo only acknowledged him with a nod, but he showed no sign of happiness in seeing him, only malice; he never liked the Spymaster.

The Lord Protector went on and stepped into the pavilion, where Jessamine drew a smile on her face in delight that he was home. But with the news that Corvo had brought, it would be hard for him to show the same; it was like he failed in his duty.

"It's a fair wind that brings you home to me, Corvo," she said. "What news have you brought?"

Corvo answered by looking down with a mad look and reaching into his coat and pulling out a paper, handing it to her. She took it, turned back to the view of the river and read its contents. She too grew the same expression the Lord Protector had, and she dropped the paper, putting her hands behind her.

"I had hoped one of the other cities had dealt with this before…" she said. "This news is very bad, and we're at the breaking point. Cowards…they're going to blockade us, to see if this city turns into a graveyard."

"Would this risk a civil war?" Corvo asked.

"It would risk our death, that's what I can say."

"Are you okay, mother?" came the sweet concerned voice of Emily, in which had calmed the nerves of both of them. "You seem sad…"

Jessamine gave a reassuring smile, and cupped her daughter's cheek. "Yes, don't worry darling; mother's fine." But immediately, her expression told Corvo that she sensed something was wrong, and she had been looking to either side frantically. "Wait…where are the guards?" Corvo searched just like she did and found she was right in her question; the guards weren't anywhere to be seen.

"Mother, look," Emily said, pointing to the direction of the front entrance of the tower. "What are they doing on the roof top?" Corvo squinted and saw, not guards, but men fully covered in strange hoods and gas masks, and appearing and disappearing out of thin air. Corvo and Jessamine both recognized them; Whalers! Assassins they were. Corvo held a tight grip on the sword in his sheathe and the pistol in his coat, readying for them to come, and he thought, _how dare they! How dare they show their presence here! I'll make them pay! _

In panic, Jessamine brought Emily close to her, "Emily, get behind me!" Then suddenly one of the Whalers in the scary gas mask appeared just in front of them, running with sword drawn. Corvo pulled his pistol and fired into the Assassin's center mass, his body flying back with the force and then vanishing before he could hit the ground. Then another appeared swung his sword, but Corvo with his had countered him and slashed across his throat, blood spewing onto his face and the assassin's body vanishing as well.

Then there was a hesitant advance of the other assassins, only until another appeared to their left this time, charging toward them. Just in time had Corvo loaded another bullet into his pistol and fired with the same effect as the first one he had killed, and then the last one vanished.

Now all seemed to have calmed, and the whalers appeared to have given up, or have been defeated. The first thought that ran through the Lord Protector's mind was the safety of his lover and daughter. He shot around to see if they are okay, and with tears in her eyes, Emily rushed into his arms for safety.

"Corvo!" Jessamine said, as she too went into his embrace.

"Is everyone okay?"

"If you haven't been here…" she sighed, and they each pulled out of their hugs to further calm themselves. But that calm soon went to waste as the sound of another Whaler caught them by surprise. The Empress gasped, and Corvo leapt to intercept, but this one had…powers. The Whaler lifted his hands and from it came a green aura of power that overcame the Lord Protector, and his feet were no longer touching the ground; he had been lifted up by the black magic that has gripped him. His arms and legs were spread apart, and in no way could he move as he watched helplessly when a man appeared just before the Empress, in a red coat and greased black hair. In his hand was a long sword, and he grabbed at the Empress.

"Jessamine!" Corvo cried. He watched the Empress try to fight back, but the man had separated the mother and daughter and violently back handed her.

"Mommy!" Emily called.

"Corvo!" Jessamine pleaded, in a hopeless attempt for his help in which he was powerless to provide in the curse of the black magic that held him away. The Assassin in the red coat grabbed her by the neck and shoved her against one of the pillars. "No-" and she was silenced with the sword pummeled through her abdomen. She choked, eyes twitching, and blood beginning to seep out her lips. The sword came out and she fell to her knees, then her full body hit the floor, her curling in despair to find comfort of her wound as a puddle of blood began to form around her.

"Jessamine! No!" Corvo had yelled, but then out the corner of his eye he could see his daughter being snatched up by another Whaler. "Emily!"

"Corvo!" she reached out her hand to him, but then she and her kidnapper disappeared in a blink. He was then released from his imprisonment and he dropped to the ground, looking up to see the red coat assassin begin to walk away, but not without taking a good look at Corvo first. They saw each other's eyes, and the hopeless man noted his features; not only the greased back black hair, but olive skin, and a very scarred face that has slightly disfigured his form. His expression was one of a scowl, but upon eyeing Corvo, his eyebrows raised slightly and his face turned more sympathetic, which was odd.

But nevertheless, this assassin had killed the Empress; he broke his eye contact with Corvo, moving on and disappearing like the rest of the others, nowhere to be seen. Immediately Corvo quickly crawled over to Jessamine's dying form and he held her in his arms.

She coughed; "Corvo…" more blood came out and stained her collar.

"Shh-Jessamine," Corvo whispered, as he himself had become sorrowful, and tears reddened his eyes.

"Corvo…our daughter…"

"Please, stay with me-"

"It's all coming apart," she coughed again. "Our daughter…your promise…"

"Don't die on me," Corvo gritted his teeth as he put his hand over the wound on her stomach.

"Do you…remember your promise to me…all those years ago?"

"Yes, I vowed to protect our daughter no matter what…"

"My love…" with what little strength she had left, she lifted her hand and cupped his cheek. "Don't forget…your promise; save her." He lifted his hand and held hers tighter to his, feeling them begin to turn cold.

"Don't leave me…" he whispered, but without sound.

"I'll be waiting for you, my love…" she gave her last words as a final blessing, and then she closed her eyes and her body went limp. Corvo slowly shook his head and disbelief, tears welling up into his reddened eyes before he began to let all the sadness out. He pulled her cold body up close to him, her head hanging back and her arms outstretched; he shoved his face into her chest and cried, allowing sounds to muffle into her, and his tears to soak up in her bloodstained top.


	3. Chapter 2: His Imprisonment

**Okay, so I got through this chapter kind of quickly and I wrote it cause I wanted to really capture Corvo's mental state and what he is having to endure now. The second half of this chapter has explanations of his history with Emily and Jessamine, so I'm sure I like to add a lot of sad and happy thoughts in every one of these chapters. **

* * *

His head was to roll by tomorrow. Six months ago he held Jessamine in his arms, his attire being stained by her blood as he cried into her fallen and lifeless form. Then the Royal Spymaster and High Overseer came with the guards who were all conveniently missing during the assassination; despite seeing him hold the Empress, they had the nerve to accuse him of murdering her and kidnapping Emily, as unlikely as it was to them.

But what was he to do? The Whalers that he killed while defending her had vanished before they even hit the ground, so there was no evidence of a struggle or the assassins even being there. Despite that, the Lord Protector argued, claimed he didn't kill her and that assassins did, but the Spymaster and High Overseer pressed on their accusations, and Corvo knew he was rendered powerless. The guards seemed to believe everything the two old men told them and were quick to hold him at sword point. Then they ordered his arrest, based on just the evidence of his presence with her when she died; they didn't even consider his argument. Next thing he knew, one of the guards had taken the pommel of their sword and bashed Corvo's face, knocking his world to black.

When news of the Empress' death was announced, 'long live the Empress!' the masses cried, even among worse threats of their plagued doom. When they heard '…killed by her own trusted bodyguard, Lord Attano…' many called for his blood in rage, even if that is all they heard; no questioning among the majority, no wondering why or how he had done it, they only acted on their emotions for their beloved Empress.

Corvo was sent to Coldridge Prison, where he endured six months of harsh treatment, moldy rations, and physical and mental torture. The torture was sometimes out of mourning for the Empress, the hatred for the dishonored Lord Protector; for the executioner, it was for the fun of it, and the guards would act as an entertained audience. Sadistic freaks they were; city watch brutality had always been a relevant issue and in her early rule, Jessamine took small steps to figuring solutions but did little as a result.

Several times had Hiram Burrows visited one of Corvo's torture sessions, first couple as Royal Spymaster, and the rest as newly appointed Lord Regent, as voted in by Parliament. When he is present, they would vacuously call these torture sessions 'interrogations'. These interrogations lasted hours every time they happened, yet no questions were ever demanded of him. All that came from him being strapped to a chair and 'interrogated' were some nasty and painful scars to appear on his skin; no words or answers from his mouth, for they asked nothing. Still, every time they would spread word around about a torture session, they would claim Burrows demanded to know the whereabouts of Emily Kaldwin, and Corvo refused to answer in his own defiance.

Corvo heard this when guards were talking just outside of his cell, and he began to wonder if he was possibly set-up, judging by the obvious misinformation being deliberately spread around. If they weren't really interrogating him, then why would Burrows go so far as to continue torturing him? Is he trying to break his spirit? Is he trying to break the voice he had that could possibly save him, if it could at all?

Who knows? But what Corvo does know is that there is something extremely wrong about this situation. Whalers come and kill the Empress, and kidnap their daughter while the guards had temporarily disappeared; just minutes after the attack, the guard comes back behind Burrows and Campbell, and they both point to him as the culprit. The guards follow their orders and arrest him, then throw him in Coldridge, where they would have him tortured there for six months for reasons he doesn't know. All of a sudden, the same man who had ordered his imprisonment was elected as Lord Regent; from the talk that Corvo had heard outside his cell, Burrows in the past several months has passed numerous executive orders that showed signs of radically conservative intent. A fortress lighthouse is built on Kingsparrow Island? Numerous walls of light and checkpoints are constructed through every street? Guard patrols are much more prominent, and even possibly being militarized? Corvo even heard that Tallboys have been given free rein to use deadly force on any infected by the plague. What in the void has compelled the Lord Regent to take such authoritarian action against the populace? Corvo always thought he was an asshole, yet before he was at least somewhat reasonable; but this?

His false imprisonment, his accuser hailed as Lord Regent, and martial law is called…

There is something wrong.

* * *

Some nights, when Corvo would be given some bread to eat for dinner, he would sit criss cross in the middle of his cell and take only little nibbles of it; he would tear off a chunk and feed some to the rats, and then throw it on the opposite side of the tray. He imagined on that side would be little Emily sitting like he would, and she would laugh with him as they ate together; yet the reality he lived held him back from laughter…forever.

He would feel regret, sometimes over letting his lover die, or at least he scolded himself in a defeatist attitude, saying that he let her die when he really had no power to save her. Sometimes he would feel regret that he watched as Emily was taken from him, again powerless. Sometimes he felt regret that he had failed in his duty; sometimes that he failed in his promise to Jessamine…

More so, confined to these enclosed walls of darkness, he felt hopeless, that he'll never see his daughter again; and the last thing he would remember is the terrified look on her face when the Whalers took her from him. He regretted more that he never, in he and Jessamine's life together, revealed the truth about her. He so wished now that he had revealed to Emily his place as her father, not just a father figure, her REAL father; he wanted her to know now that she was his own flesh and blood, and that he wanted her to know with full love that he lived to see her grow and he would be nowhere else if it meant he could guide her as father forever. He wanted her to know of the promise he had made to her mother…

Corvo would sleep on the cold stone floor, his skin scraping at the degraded rock, leaving scratches and irritation over the torture wounds that were already there. He was tired, however, and for so long he could never sleep until he found that his condition had forced him into rest. Nights upon nights, he had dreams of him and Jessamine in happier times, loving each other after a council, after a ball, or meal; at the beach, in her private chambers, in his private chambers, during the Fugue Feast. His dreams of her held memories of their activities beyond their love; he taught her once how to dance the Serkonan Step, in which they have become masters at. During parties, they would take at least one dance in which they immediately became the most interesting people in the room; their skill in the dance is described by the people that would gather around them to be captivating, and they were almost always encouraged to dance for an audience. More than they were just lovers, they were also the best of friends; it was the greatest any one can ever ask for.

Sometimes he dreamt about Emily, holding her as a baby and feeding her milk from a baby-bottle. Then he would watch her grow up, carrying her on his shoulders like a real father would. Beyond her private tutors, he would butt in and teach her things of his own, in which she was much more enthusiastic about. Just like he taught her mother, he had given her dance instructions as well; sometimes he would playfully dance with her at the few parties she was actually allowed to.

More prominent than his dreams were his nightmares; recurring dreams of watching his lover be impaled by the red coat assassin's blade, Emily being taken away from him, and even worse, Emily suffering the same fate as her mother and he failing to keep his promise. Then there were his night terrors, paralyzing sleep in which he could barely wake up from. Vision of…black eyes, on every form of person, staring into his soul; then they reached their out their hands and grabbed at him, tearing him apart. He would spasm awake and realize that what he saw was still here on this earth, where he would be confined to this cold place to be tortured until they decide the end of his days.

His imprisonment was the true nightmare, and he had lost hope of ever upholding his promise to Jessamine. He now wondered if he would even find her in the afterlife when he dies soon, if he truly deserves to love her for eternity after failing her and their daughter.


	4. Chapter 3: His Emptiness, His Hope Gone

**So I got a couple of new subscribers to this story. **

**I sure do hope you guys like it, the contents of this story are only going to get darker (possibly more disturbing) as we go along. **

**Oh and don't forget to review. **

* * *

Corvo was held to an uncomfortable metal chair; his legs, arms and waist were tied down tightly by leather straps, to the point where blood flow to the cut off regions had stopped and they would become numb. On this day the guards dragged him out of his cell and brought him back to the dark interrogation room, where now a large portrait of the Lord Regent was hung on a wall and stood out in large size.

The Torturer, a tall and scarred bald man, held a mischievous grin as sparks from electrical rods in his hands flung to zapping charges. Initially, several guards watched as the torturer prodded the defenseless Serkonan on his bare chest, sending shockwaves through him and his body going into a spasm. Sometimes the torturer stuck a rod to him for a prolonged interval, shocking him to the point where saliva dripped from his bottom lip and his heart nearly going into cardiac arrest; he would be relieved once the rod is away from him and his frantic heart beat found its pulse again, but his body weak and dizzy. The torturer had even allowed for some of the guards to clench their hands into fists and lay savage strikes down onto the Lord Protector, giving him ugly bruises, a bloody nose, and a black eye that went well with his scabbed wounds.

It was when his vision was blurry, and he was nearly unconscious that he heard someone order the guards to leave. After they had cleared, he immediately found good sight of reality and caught the image of the Lord Regent, Burrows and High Overseer Campbell approach him. _Not another Interrogation…_

"No…" the broken man whispered in fear. "Not again." The torturer reached for a metal pipe that was resting on the edge of a fire, the tip burning bright orange. When the sadistic torturer brought the hot side near Corvo, he tried to pull himself away, his breath becoming frantic, his eyes widening in panic, and his heart beat racing again. Closer the hot point got, and Coro couldn't move back any further. "No…No!" It touched him, stinging, scorching, and melting the skin nearly to his rib bone. He roared in agony and his head dropped in exhaustion once the tip was removed from him.

"That's enough," the smug voice of Burrows said to the torturer; "Please leave, we must speak privately." Corvo heard the dropping of tools and heavy boots moving away just before the swinging close of a door. Corvo used what little strength he had felt coursing through him to lift his head and observe the Regent and Overseer standing around him. "There was nothing personal in this," the Regent said. "You just happened to be in the wrong place at the right time."

"What…what are you saying?" Corvo breathed, and he was taken aback by what the Lord Regent just said to him.

"You fool," the High Overseer scoffed. "You have been framed; you fell right into our plan." The saliva in Corvo's throat was caught there, and he choked in utter disbelief.

"Your early arrival complicated things," Burrows said. "But fortunately it worked for the best; everyone now believes you killed the Empress, and they want to see your head on a pike. It surely pulls the pressure off of us."

Corvo found the nerve to speak; "You bastards…why are you telling me this?"

"Because," Campbell said. "We want you to know the truth, more so since you are broken, pathetic, and powerless to stop us. We believe its…only appropriate that you know why such punishment must happen." Corvo scowled at them, angrier than his usual expression back when he used to be on duty. Campbell leaned in with an evil smirk; "It must hurt, doesn't it? You see, we knew of your…rather close relationship with the Empress; it was so obvious that it was abysmal for you two to have ever tried lying to cover it up." Campbell leaned in further, obviously trying to incite a reaction from the bodyguard for fun; Corvo's face tightened in locked away rage for every word the despicable Overseer had uttered. "How does it feel to watch her choke on her own blood, her life slipping away painfully as you watched helplessly, knowing you couldn't save the only person you have ever loved?" Suddenly, a fire erupted inside the chest of the Royal Protector, trying to lunge forward at the Overseer to ring his neck in now unlocked rage, but the restraints had held him to the chair.

"I'll kill you!" he shouted threateningly. "You son of a bitch, I'll fucking kill you!" Campbell stepped back and backhanded Corvo across his face.

"You are pathetic," Campbell insulted, as Corvo hung his head again.

"Easy now, Campbell," Burrows said, laying a hand on the Overseers shoulder. "We don't need to do any more damage; his head will roll tomorrow." Campbell retracted his hand back behind him. "There is no point fighting it anymore, Corvo; At least your pain will cease soon." _But it won't_.

"Jessamine…" Corvo muttered, sorrowfully under his breath. "Emily…my promise…" the pain that engulfs him now would never be cured by a guillotine. His soul will forever remain tormented and unloved, and the evil spirits may claim him to a darker place to be tortured for eternity. He deserved it; he failed his lover, he failed his daughter, he failed his family.

"Come now, Campbell," Burrows said, turning toward the door. "Let's leave Corvo in his sulking, so perhaps he could learn to accept his fate. For now, we have important matters to attend to." The High Overseer followed behind the Lord Regent, and they left the room. "Guards! Take the Lord Protector back to his cell."

* * *

All Corvo could do now was lay sideways, his cheek plastered to the floor while his eyes turned dry and red for staring at the wall too long. His head could no longer process anything, but one question: what was his purpose anymore? His soul was one of a dead and pathetic man, trapped in an abused and broken body and mind.

He didn't react, just laid there still and silent, as he heard the iron bars slide open and booted footsteps coming in. Then there was the light metal clank of a tray tapping the stone floor.

"You should eat, Lord Attano," a guard had said. "This meal comes from a friend."


	5. Chapter 4: His Escape

Corvo had finally decided to remove himself from the position he was in and crawl over to the tray, where an actual nice and freshly baked piece of bread laid on it. He grabbed a hold of it; he had been starving, and his body was beginning to eat away at his muscular form, and now he was several pounds lighter than he used to be, and not as masculine as before. Through the beard he had grown out, he shoved the bread into his mouth and bit off a huge chunk of it, chewing and rejoicing in its great taste and warm feel; the only decent thing he has had in forever. He swallowed then bit another chunk off, repeating this process, uncontrollably, not even bothering to savor it, only to get it into his stomach. He went so fast that he almost didn't notice the piece of paper and key that was previously under the piece of bread on the tray.

_What's this? _He thought, and he held his chewing. He picked up and unfolded the piece of paper, and in it were contents that he couldn't believe.

_Lord Attano_

_Who we are is irrelevant now, as now is your time to escape. The key the guard has provided you is the one to your cell, use it. The guard should've left a sword for you to use. You must make your way to the torture chamber, and inside the safe in the backroom is a bomb. Use that bomb to blow open the outer door, then make your way into the harbor and escape through the sewer system. _

_Everything we worked and planned here for counts on you now. _

_-A Friend_

This was so all of a sudden, and Corvo was taken back; but when he looked at the key in his hand, he swallowed the chewed bread in his mouth and his mind was set to the plan. He gripped the key firmly in his hand; now he was ready.

First he stuck his hand through the bars and fiddled with the lock on the other side slightly, some troubles came for him, but he was able to slip the key into it, and turn the lock until he heard a click. This allowed for the bars to slide open easily, and he pushed it off to the side. Now he was free.

Immediately, he looked to the other wall and saw the sword that he was told to retrieve. He grabbed it, and played around with it for a moment to get a good feel; it had been so long since he had his hands on a sword and he was rather rusty. He set it down for another second once he also noticed a guard's jacket draped over a chair, in which he grabbed and put on to, cover his chest finally. Now he was ready to go, as he picked up the sword again, he crouched and made his way left to the entrance to the cell block, where he had heard a couple of guards talking.

He leaned over the edge, and just in front of him, a few feet away, was a guard standing with his back to him, and he was facing down a pillared hall where two guards were talking about the Lord Protector and the execution that was supposed to happen tomorrow. Corvo began shaking, and the fire he had erupted in his head; he was angry, and he wanted vengeance. When he saw the side of the guards face, he immediately recognized him: one of the guards that liked to beat him up while he was tied to the chair.

_Those rat bastards! I'm going to kill them…they deserve it! I'll make them pay! _The vengeful protector gripped his sword vigorously, and silently he emerged from the corner and drove the blade into the neck of the unsuspecting guard, while covering his mouth to avoid him screaming. He fell with a thud, and this attracted the attention of the two others, but not quickly enough for those two to get a quick sword stabbed through them in vital areas. Now the room was cleared, and Corvo ran on into the next room, where he climbed a few pipes to reach the second floor and the balcony that overlooked the room with the dead guards.

"What the?" Corvo heard on the other side of a door. He immediately barged through and saw a guard looking down from the balcony, then being startled had distracted the guard from making any resilient move, and so Corvo shoved the sword through his heart. This one nearly screamed, but a vicious grab at his throat by the hands of the dishonored lord had squeezed his airways shut, rendering his words to only a choking and a dispersing of pain in his chest. This was followed by adrenaline of being strenuously thrown over the ledge, falling head first. Corvo wasted no time after he had heard the sickening crack of a neck, his reaction being none as he stormed on, no caution at all but his pure rage and killing skill that blended into a dangerous weapon that was him.

Blood. It was colored scarlet, and what was once the olive color that was his skin was now splattered with so much of this bitter wine, this liquid from beneath the flesh being not his. He had committed mass murder in a high security prison, and he thought nothing of it; he who once upheld the law as a figure of power, now a figure of pure violence. Through the slicing, the dismemberment, and the gutting, the corpses had faces that were frozen in place, portraying the emotion that the guards had last felt: panic, terror, fear.

Corvo's heart beat faster with every other kill, for each one assured him no satisfaction, no display of mercy or remorse. **THEY DESERVED IT. **Every terrible curse and lash that is inflicted is a reaction to the damning flame that they created in order to take them. Everything they have done had insured that they found their lives ended earlier and harder as justice beckons. No…it wasn't mass murder…it was mass suicide, for they have chosen this; unknowingly they begged for a painful, merciless death everytime they had done Corvo wrong; and now here they are, in fear for their pathetic lives as though they never expected this.

**Corvo was the suicide method. **

He had continued his slashing in a manner of overkilling, to ensure not only the bodies remain lifeless and disfigured so that the families of these inhuman torture machines can truly cry and hurl over the sight of them, but so that their spirits can be assured no pass into the cosmos; no trace of life from them can exist any longer, in this reality or the next. Everything about them would be obliterated, to cease eternally so that there is no one thing about the conscience of them left in the universe.

Corvo had been so caught up in the sound of…suicide…that he almost forgot what the message had said. He needed to find the bomb, in which he did. It was hiding in a safe in the back of the dreaded torture room in which he could not stand being in. Carrying it under his armpit, he went out quickly so that he may not have to bear being in that appalling room longer than he has to.

One objective completed, and he carried on his duty of bringing suicide to the guards even with just one hand. By the time he had gotten to the gates, dozens lay lifeless, and the cold metal floors ran with a river of blood, pouring down stair steps like a waterfall. Then the reinforced door blew, sending a loud bang that can be heard through probably all of Dunwall. Corvo, being inside, though in cover, was blown back 5 feet and his back hit a control panel, smashing the equipment. His body fell flat on the floor, and his knockout lasted only a few seconds, and he groaned though he couldn't hear himself through his ringing ears.

His eyes regained their vision, and lifting himself up, he saw through the smoke the clearing the time bomb had made. It was now that time was of the essence, and he had to make his escape, but as he tried to dash, a sharp pain seared in his side, and he grimaced, holding the area where it hurt. It was obvious that his impact with the console had left a bad bruise, or even a broken rib or two; perhaps he should've considered a spot of cover that was down the stairs. Regardless, he took off, but his movement was slowed down.

As he went out the door, there was a drawbridge; but it was being lifted during the alarm. An alternative presented itself: an immediate right, going down a flight of stairs, so down he went. Across on another platform, two dumbfounded guards were alerted by the sight of him, and they pulled out their flintlock pistols and began firing at him. Even with updated technology, flintlocks were still the hardest weapons to actually hit anything with, so their two shots missed and ricochet off of the metal stairs near Corvo's feet. Corvo used this as his igniter, and his speed picked up going down the stairs. After a wrap around, he found that the bottom stair led to a drop into the Wrenhaven River; he stopped and hesitated, but another ricochet from a bullet had forced him to back up and taking a leap.

The blood rushed from his lower region, and the wind blew up his hair, until he felt the breezy cold of the water and the suppression of sound. The pain in his side returned, worse than ever now that the water was outstretching his arms. He had to fight the pain the best he could, so he held the region and made a half-assed doggy paddle to the shore on the other side. He resurfaced, his hair over his eyes and drooling water, and he grunted as he pulled himself ashore. But he had no time to rest, as more shots rang and the bullets again nearly hit him; so he jumped back on his feet and made a mad dash for the door that led to the sewer system.

The sewers were an inhospitable place, but at times it could be good for shelter. Its confusing corridors and darkness could offer great places to hide, and provide for temporary rest. So that is what Corvo had done. He slowed down, hunched and weak, and leaned against the stone. He took off the jacket he had to observe the damage. Though it was dark, it didn't take much to see that he had a nasty bruise, above all the other wounds from torture that were aching at that point. He hissed at the pain, and put his coat back on, so that he could keep moving.

At one point, he found a suspicious briefcase, and on it had a letter, which he read it to be addressed to him.

_Lord Attano_

_If you are reading this, then you are progressing well. By now, the guards might have entered the sewers and is looking for you, but your escape must be covered. _

_In this briefcase are a few items that might be of interest to you. Both lethal and non-lethal, regardless, you should use them if you're to not be followed. _

Corvo opened the briefcase and what he found in there had given him slightly more of an edge. He pulled out a hand cross bow, along with three darts and three needle tip darts containing a green glowing fluid; they must be the non-lethals. The other item he pulled out was a magnificent sword, and getting his hands on it, the blade suddenly extended out from the handle, surprising Corvo but bringing a smirk to his face when he twirled it around for a feel.

_These weapons were specialized for your talents; so consider them a gesture of gratitude for your co-operation, so far. _

_If you make it to the end of the sewer and go out a tunnel, you will meet a man by the shore named Samuel. He's someone you can trust, and he'll bring you to us._

-Your Friends

Corvo crumpled up the note and dropped it in the water in knowledge that he had to get rid of evidence linking someone in aiding his escape, as if Corvo acquiring a bomb wasn't suspicious enough. With that, he locked his new weapons onto him and moved on.

Corvo had evaded some patrols, even had to kill a few more men to make it to the tunnel for his escape from the sewer. When he reached it, the light nearly blinded him, but when he emerged his eyes adjusted to see a figure standing feet away from him.

"Corvo!"

After the days events, the sudden voice had shocked him, and Corvo being too careful gasped and lifted his crossbow armed with the last arrow. His eyes widened to the adjusted view of a harmless looking old man with white hair, sideburns, wrinkly face, and dusty brown clothes. This old man lifted his hands in the air.

"Woah, easy Corvo. I'm Samuel; I'm working with your friends who busted you out of confinement. You can trust me."

Despite reading the note earlier, Corvo didn't lower suspicion and kept his weapon trained on Samuel's head.

"Corvo…our mutual friends know you didn't kill the Empress, that's why they arranged your escape. They want to give you a second chance, but the details can't be discussed here. The patrols are still looking for you, and I'm your best bet to get to safety. Now please, lower your weapon and just trust me."

Corvo took deep breaths, and then decided, based upon Samuel's unhostile approach towards him, that he could trust him. So he sighed in relief and lowered his weapon.

"Good, you trust me. But there's time for a proper greeting later; right now we have to get to the hideout. Trust me, you'll be safe there."

Corvo nodded to him. "Alright, Samuel; let's go."


	6. Chapter 5: His Arrival to Hound Pits Pub

The hum of the engine, the lack of a soft space and the nasty sharp pain of the bruise on his side is what kept him awake through the afternoon on the boat ride to the place that the old boatman Samuel called 'The Hound Pits Pub'. Throughout, Corvo's head drooped up and down, his back hunched, and his eyes fluttered tiredly, but in no way was there any chance to rest, not until he finds even the slightest of soft mattresses to lay upon, and soft hands treat his wound.

In the setting sunlight, he made out a building of typical Gristolian brick architecture, several stories high and with a painted sign that depicted blood hounds, advertising the name 'Hound Pits Pub'. There was another building next to it, closer to the water and right next to the docking bay they were about to get off at; it looked like a garage of sorts, based on the metal lift door it had, but there was no way to see inside. And the building just right of the Hound Pits main area seemed much more of an industrial building; a brewery most likely, or another whale oil production plant, which is plausible given it being a strategically sound area for business of a Pub to be where Industrial workers can wind down during break or after work.

Samuel slowed down the boat and turned it to parallel the stone dock, then he turned off the engine and the side of the boat thumped. Samuel immediately got off with some ropes and began to tie down the boat.

"You should go see Havelock and Pendleton in the Pub," said the Old man. "I assume they want to congratulate you on your escape."

Who is Havelock and Pendleton? Corvo thought. Was it THE Admiral Havelock? Was this Pendleton one of the Pendleton siblings? This wasn't a question that Corvo wanted to ask the Old man, but instead find out himself; he didn't want to speak in general, for he was in no mood. With that advice Samuel gave, Corvo took it and stepped out of the book, grimacing and holding his side to another sting. He continued on past the archway, to his left was the lift door he noted, and he could barely make out a whale oiled powered drill running. Who was on the other side? What other people would be here besides Samuel, this Havelock and this Pendleton?

He reached the back door, placing his palm upon the knob, and thinking for a moment to himself about whether he made a mistake trusting the Old Boatman, if he had gotten himself into an even worse situation. The only way he would find out is by entering the Pub, with a hand behind his back. So he turned the knob, opened, and found inside a welcoming sight, at least more welcoming than a prison cell. It had the layout of a common Pub, one side being the bar area with glasses and barstools, the other side of the wall being a series of cushioned booths. But more importantly he heard a broomstick being swiped on a floor just to his left. He turned his head and saw a woman, nearly his height with black hair and a maid's uniform.

She reacted to his coming in: "Oh, my…" and set the broom aside the fireplace. "Lord Attano…" She stood in front of him and curtsied. "My name is Lydia, I'm a servant under Lord Trevor Pendleton."

Corvo didn't speak, but made his meaning clear when he tilted his head.

"Oh, you must be looking for Lord Pendleton and Admiral Havelock," she said, then pointed to a place on the other side of the room. "They are right over there, my lord." He saw the two, a large burly man with square jaw, a scarred complexion, grey hair and dressed in a naval uniform. The other was clean cut brown hair, short, big ears, small eyes, subtle coloring of his high class outfit; an all-around snobbish looking man. So that's them?

Corvo nodded to Lydia, then quickly made off

"A pleasure…" she said, and when he was out of earshot she added in a mutter, "A more formal 'thank you' would have been nice…but a pleasure." And she went back to sweeping.

Before Corvo reached them, he slowed to hear the conversation they were having whilst they were unaware of his presence. Without a doubt, their voices fit their look.

"It's starting at last, Admiral," said the noble one, his voice higher pitched and couth-like. "Lord Attano escaped from Coldridge Prison. We provided the tools necessary, and he executed it like it was nothing."

"Yes, not surprising," said the Admiral, his voice much deeper and more stern. "He was the personal bodyguard of the Empress…you've heard the stories."

"Yes, I have. It still amazes me that someone could get to the Empress and young lady Emily."

"No one knows the real story, Trevor. We all have our suspicions; we'll know the truth in time." If these are the men that broke him out, then why is it that the Old Boater said they knew he was innocent? More things that need to be answered, of course…

"He's strong and quick. But I hope he understands subtlety as well."

"This isn't one of your fancy dress parties; the reality is that we need men killed…have you ever killed a man?"

"Only with my wit…but Lord Attano has. He made a slick escape, but surely you've heard what he has done to the guards."

"Yes. It was a bloodbath; thirteen killed, gruesomely. That just proves how dangerous he can be, and how perfect he is for our plan."

"I admit: I look forward to meeting him. However, Farley, I'm not keen on trusting him one hundred percent just yet. Knowing what happened to him during his six months and his…slaughter fest…I fear the man we helped break out may have developed the mind of a dangerous sociopath. He may be uncooperative, or make a mess of our plans, drive the state into further chaos."

"Don't be quick to regret our motions, Trevor. After all, we can't judge the man just yet, not until we…" The Admiral cut himself off when he saw Corvo appear behind Pendleton. "The man of the hour is here." The noble turned, and in his eyes, Corvo could just barely make out some fright of his sudden appearance. "Lord Attano, I'm Admiral Havelock," said the Admiral, dipping his head and raising a fist to his chest in greetings. "A true servant of the Empire, like you; until the Lord Regent purged those of us who wouldn't recognize his claim on the throne."

"And I'm Lord Trevor Pendleton," said the noble, giving a formal bow. "I represent the nobility in our little group; but we all act as equals here at the Hound Pits Pub."

"This is a momentous occasion, Lord Attano," the Admiral said, grabbing a pint of Ale from the counter. "I'm going to come out with it: we've been building a coalition of loyalists, aimed at ending the Lord Regent's tyranny, and restoring the throne."

"At risk of execution, we're committed to finding young Lady Emily and seeing her crowned as Empress," said Pendleton.

"We have big plans, Lord Attano, and we can't do any of them without you. We need your skills, your ability in a fight. And in helping us, we're going to help you destroy the men who murdered the Empress, and clear your name." So, they either are great liars, or they only mildly doubt Corvo had killed the Empress. With the words the Admiral had spoken, it is clear that they want him to think that they don't believe he killed the Empress, and that he can trust him. But they sound sincere...it doesn't take a lie reader to figure they are truthful.

And a chance to exact revenge on those bastards that framed him and had his beloved killed? This is the best opportunity he has to satisfy his blood lust for Campbell and Burrows, for their souls to be obliterated and sent to a special reservation within damnation, for them to answer to death's relentless justice…Corvo's stomach quivered in delight at the thought.

More importantly, they believe that Emily, his beloved daughter, is alive. This alone had fought back against his uncontrollable urge to kill things, clouding the thoughts of him slicing up the men who wronged him. Corvo HAD to believe she was alive; no…he knew she was alive somewhere. It was his paternal instinct: he could FEEL her alive, it was in his gut. If he had to kill every man to get to his daughter, he would do it. But if he had to spare every man, to let them live and allow them to tear the Empire apart, he would still do it, just to see the only family of his left. Avenging his beloved is second; his promise to her is first.

"Emily…" Corvo whispered under his breath, the only words from his mouth that these two would hear from him all day. The pain from his bruise suddenly came back, and he grunted and held it.

"Oh, our apologies for not noticing you were hurt," Pendleton said. "We'll be at your service tonight. I'll have Cecilia draw you a bath and give proper medical attention, you could desperately use the cleaning and grooming. In the meantime I'll have Lydia and Wallace prepare a nice meal for you to eat; you must be starving."

He met Lydia, but who were Wallace and Cecilia? They must be other personal servants to Lord Pendleton. However, it wasn't as if he was excited to meet more new people. All he wanted was a quiet solitude to think of his little Emily and his lost beloved, and imagine the day when they reunite.

Corvo nodded his thanks to him, showing his gratitude apart from his unpleased expression and his solemn silent nature. After all, the silence was all his heart could take.


	7. Chapter 6: His Thanks

At the landing of the first flight of stairs, a tall man with a voice like Pendleton's, only deeper, was standing over and chewing out a short, nervous redhead girl in a brown jacket like his, and a flat cap. She wasn't taking his criticism well, with her hand rubbing at her sleeved arm and her head drooped.

"…Do you mean to tell me you do not know how to curtsey properly?" He spat with his arms akimbo.

"Please, sir…I was never in service with a noble," her voice was soft, and expressed a light begging of mercy to it, but with little hope of receiving it.

The man swiped his hand in anger; "That's not an excuse! You need to learn proper decorum. The Hound Pits has seen a few lords and ladies in its day."

"If they were here…I expect they didn't want to be recognized, sir…"

"Never mind that; the Lord Protector better be shown the respect he deserves. He doesn't require it, but Lord Pendleton insists."

"Yes sir, I'm sorry."

"You must be at your best this night, Cecelia. You are to personally see to Master Corvo's needs; draw him a bath and tend to his wounds. Those are Lord Pendleton's orders; he was wrong to insist you handle something you might make a fool of yourself out of, but his needs are of me and Lydia in the kitchen. Do not fail us, Cecelia; our reputation as Hound Pits Servants are on your shoulders." The man turned and with eyes suddenly widened, noticed Corvo standing just before him.

"Master Corvo, I am Wallace, a servant here at the Hound Pits Pub," he said and bowed. The girl, Cecelia, had fumbled in her curtsey; it seems that this man was right to criticize her curtseying. Wallace took notice to this at the corner of his eye and gave a disdainful expression. "I apologize about Cecelia; she apparently has never been in the presence of the Aristocracy before Lord Pendleton or you." Corvo adjusted his eye left and saw that Cecelia took steps back, rubbing her hands together and her expression obvious of self-shame. "Cecelia, apologize," ordered Wallace.

"I-I'm sorry sir..."

"You should be. Now…please, Master Corvo, follow me to your quarters. Cecelia! Do as you're told."

"Yes sir."

* * *

Wallace led Corvo to the very top floor, the attic, where through a right turn into a dor, and another right turn through another door had taken them into a wide room, where at one corner was a desk and bed right next to it, and along the wall was a sink with a mirror in front of it.

"Admiral Havelock chose this room for you to give you privacy; he assumed you would need the time alone," Wallace bowed again. "If you desire anything, Master Corvo, we will be at your service." _You could surely go out and rescue my daughter for me; that would be much appreciated, _thought Corvo. "For now, Lydia and I will be in the kitchen, preparing your dinner for this evening. It will be seasoned Salmon, with a side of buttered rice and cooked spinach. It will be served at seven o'clock this evening; we hope you will like it." Without another word, Wallace left the room, leaving Corvo by himself.

For a moment, Corvo basked in the silence, hearing only the steps of his boots as he made his way to the bed and sat down on it. He relieved himself of his weapons, laying the crossbow, pistol, and sword down onto the table, and he took another deep breath. The sharp pain came back again, and once again, more annoyed, he grimaced and held his side.

"Crap…" He muttered.

He took this time to look around the room, and found a drawer with spare clothes in there. More specifically, they were regular street clothes, except one long jacket the modeled that of the Lord Protector uniform he had, only this time it had on a hood of sorts, but for what reason?

Wallace had told him that the bathroom with the tub was located on the third floor; so Corvo went to it. He entered a door way on his right, just at the end of the hall. He saw a gathering of bunks, possibly for the servants of the place, and made a guess that the door in the corner with the steam coming out of the open way was the bathroom. He went to it, and when he turned, he nearly ran into Cecelia who looks like she was heading out.

She was startled, "Oh my!" She quickly curtseyed, and again fumbled. "I'm sorry, Master Corvo…" _She apologizes a lot more than she has to. _"Your bath is ready…I made sure it was hot enough to relax your pain. Of course I could've made it cold to make you numb, but knowing what happened you probably would have gone through a lot of cold water torture in prison, and that you would be tired of cold water for a while…or they could've used hot water to torture you…or lukewarm water…"

Corvo lifted his hand in the air to get her to stop, and she did. He nodded to her, signaling that it was alright.

"Oh…right, I'm sorry," She apologized, again. There was an awkward silence, as she nervously looked down to the floor. "Oh, I'm sorry; I'm in your way…" She stepped aside, and he watched her move as awkwardly as possible. "I'll get the medical supplies ready," Corvo turned in to the door, but stopped when he heard: "Oh, and Mr. Corvo, I-I left soaps and shaving supplies…in case you wanted to thoroughly clean off." He nodded in approval, and closed the door behind him.

With his privacy, he stripped down to the nude and slowly dipped himself in the bath, letting out a groan as he lowered further in. The water was hot enough, and soothing enough to release all the tension in his weak muscles, and finally, after six months of strain, find relaxation. The tub barely fit him, however, as he had to bend his knees just to sink in his chest. But it was enough to strip his mind down, just as the water did to the dirt on his skin. It was eroded down to a sensitive state, to a point of deep thought of the past events. His stare into the water blurred as the only thing he could see were the images of slaughter. From his lover, Jessamine, the blood oozing from her chest wound; his own body, which had been abused and decayed; and all those men he had killed in the prison, without remorse.

_I…I killed…relentlessly…_ He thought. _They deserved it…no…they had families…but how could monsters love their own blood? _

He brought his hands up to his face, and he cringed, covering his eyes and clawing his forehead in frustration.

_They deserved it…no…they were misled…they were fools…but it wasn't their fault…but they didn't dare question…but they were taught not to…but they took pleasure in my pain...but they were ordered to give pain…_

"No…" He whispered, his voice cracking. "No…no no no…"

_I'm a monster, a murderer, a taker of life. Jessamine would've hated me for allowing myself to lose all control, for murdering passionately. What would Emily think of me? She would never dare to call me her father…or worse, become like me._

He started to quietly sob, turning to his side frantically, the water splashing and spilling over the edge of the tub. He gasped, shakily exhaled, and dragged his palms down his cheeks, pulling down his lower eye lids. His crying had begun to die down, his mind coming back to a sense of order that he had before exposing himself to guilt.

_I have to find the men that did this to me._

The faces of Campbell and Burrows appeared, and it physically infuriated him. His breathing had become speedy, and his brows had curled, his muscles stiffened with his tightening hold on the edges of the tub, his teeth gritted even harder to grinding point.

_THEM…I'm going to kill them…they are the ones that need to be obliterated. _

But another face came back to mind; it was the man that killed his lover, the man with the black hair and the scars. He remembers the glare this man had given him when he walked off, as though he challenged him to come and find him.

_In the days of my revenge, yours are numbered. I will find you, and end you._

* * *

Corvo got done cleaning himself, then shaved himself in the mirror. The beard now gone, he looked like a reborn man, felt that way, as he dragged his fingertips across his jaw to feel the smooth skin. He emerged from the bathroom, coated in a white towel over his shoulders. He saw Cecelia over on one of the bunks, waiting patiently with her fingers interlaced. The bathroom door opening had grabbed her attention, and she looked his way.

"Oh, Mr. Corvo," she said. "I'm ready to treat you now." He didn't respond, he only stepped over and took his seat beside her. He removed the towel and threw it to the side, catching Cecelia in hesitation. "Oh my…" she gasped in awe at the damage done to his once glorious upper body. The olive skin of his was tainted with scars and scabs. One scab, a large one in particular, was left over the other day from the hot iron torture they had done. This was next to the large and rather very dark blue bruise that he received from earlier that day. Other scars prove evidence of other burns and other scabs pointed to more pieces of skin missing, and at this point, they were probably infected despite the hot bath. "What have they done to you...?" She reached and ran reluctant fingers softly across his rough skin, and then reached the bruise where Corvo reacted with a slight jump and a grunt. "Oh no…" she breathed sympathetically. "There's nothing I could do about the bruise, but I could pad it and help ease the pain."

She reached over and brought out a cylinder of red liquid. "This is Elixir, Anton Sokolov's recipe. It can work as a painkiller if you drink it." She opened the lid and handed it to him. He looked down through the open top, then put it to his lips and downed it quick. It was a bitter taste, nothing like wine, but terrible. Though, despite the bad taste, the painkilling aspect seemed to work rather quickly, as the sharp stings from his bruise were getting less and less prominent till it was just a pain when pressure was applied to it. To this, he sighed in relief. "I'm no doctor, but you might want to take a couple of these Elixirs regularly, to keep the pain from holding you back." Cecelia went ahead and applied cushioned bandaging to his bruise, to keep it from hitting hard objects. She left the scabs alone, but used a bottle of beer as a disinfectant for them, to kill any bacteria that would be growing. The edges of these scabs where the alcohol leaked under had stung, and he hissed. Cecelia went ahead and bandaged them despite the lack of need.

When it was over, Cecelia closed the first aid box and stored it away under the bed, and Corvo was putting back on his jacket. Just as she was leaving through the door, Corvo turned his head and found it reasonable enough to say: "Thanks." She stopped and turned in the door way, her lips apart and eyes wide. She was at a loss for words; possibly because the Lord Protector had finally spoken to her, or that someone finally thanked her in a while, or both. She tried to force a response, but produced only a stutter. "Uh…o-of course…" And she stared a moment at his eyes. He could note a blush that came to her cheeks before she quickly turned and paced away.


End file.
